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RM2-ch14:Sigmat Base-edited
Chapter 14: Sigmar Base Admiral McElligott had just returned from a meeting with the Assembly Security Council. He briefed the members of the ASC on the development of the war and the Sigmar Base incident in particular. He was not exactly proud of himself for using his reputation to dodge most of the questions and ask the members of the ASC to hold back details to the general Assembly by reasoning security and intel based reasons. McElligott believed in the Union and considered himself a stout defender, but unlike that other immortal guide and admiral, he saw things in many layers. They called him the Old Highlander, as he had been born on old Earth not far from an ancient town known as Aberdeen before the Ascent of Earth to the Galactic Stage. He had been picked by an artificial entity to become the Administrator, gifted with Immortality and made part of a group of guides meant to assist Earth’s humanity on that ultimate journey from an isolated planetary based society to an important part of this galaxies spacefaring civilizations. Most of these guides had become obsolete and fell by the wayside, not just a few purged during that time of history known as the Peace Hawk Debacle. A few, however, remained active. There was Cherubim, chosen to be the keeper of the dark secrets. Phil Decker wanting to be nothing else but a policeman and that former Texas Ranger, Peter Baker who had joined the Union Ranger service. There was Rex Schwartz and last but not least there was the one known as the Eternal Warrior, Richard Stahl. McElligott was not certain if Baker or Decker were even picked by the Guardian of Earth or had somehow gained immortality another way, neither of them claimed to have any specific task. The Old Highlander, begun his military career serving His majesties Navy, became a submarine commander even before World War III and attained the rank of Admiral before there was a Union or a United Earth. Unlike that uncut, boisterous Yankee who was so proud of his Teutonic roots. After more or less 3000 years, even McElligott had to agree that the other Admiral was a fighter and military leader like few others, but he never saw Stahl as an equal. He never completely agreed with the Guardian picking a simple-minded US Marine lieutenant to become humanity's warrior and defender. McElligott did not object when the Assembly under the secret influence of the Kermac, created a committee that declared Stahl a warmonger and guilty of war crimes. He did not object when Stahl was sent to Brisbane stockade, along with many thousand Union Fleet Officers. He had to admit that he was not sorry to hear that the other Admiral escaped Brisbane and disappeared. McElligott considered his public display of outrage a necessity to remain in the position where he was when a group led by Aaron Mendel, Deepa Lydaa and others exposed the Kermac Psionic control over a significant part of the Assembly that made the Peace Hawks so powerful in the first place. He openly applauded the return of Stahl who arrived with a gigantic alien spaceship, the secret of Translocator Cannons and ParaDim shields at the very last moment during the last Y’All invasion, giving the hard-pressed Union forces the tools to defeat these relentless monsters and provide the true foundation of Union supremacy ever since. The Old Highlander felt the bitter bile of anger as he thought of the embarrassment that cursed former Jarhead caused as he disregarded direct orders and exposed Kermac aggression in the Maxwell system. McElligott managed to deflect all blame on the last Union president who turned out to be a Kermac plant. The general public bought it, and he managed to remain the Admiral of the Fleet. He was well aware of the narrow deflection of serious repercussions, and knew that among others, Mothermachine and the Klack Queen no longer respected him as they did before. A real admiral would have contacted him privately, made sure the Maxwell incident was handled quietly. That system was utterly unimportant, only Green Hell and a forgettable small presence on Harper’s Junction. Hardly worth exposing him like that or make it the reason for a war. He was certain something could have been negotiated with the Galactic Council and then presented as a fact accomplished to the Assembly, but no. As long as that Buffoon, that righteous Stahl was worshiped like that there was no chance for more subtle approaches. Oh sure! The Old Highlander respected the other immortal admiral in terms of his unquestionable tactical and combat-related skills and instincts, but even after all this time, Stahl never changed or evolved. That they made this man an admiral was an affront to the rank in McElligott’s opinion, as that man never went to any Naval Academy and insisted on fighting with Union Marines or commanding some rustbucket at the very frontlines of every damn war and battle there has been, since humanity ascended. McElligott ceased to have any desire to command a submarine or any vessel for that matter, a very long time ago. He was an admiral after all and not an expendable front line officer. The Admiral of the Fleet had traveled via Space-Train from Pluribus back to the Sol system. As it was appropriate for his rank and position he had, of course, used his designated coach segment. Space Trains were operated by a private corporation, but companies, departments, and organizations could link customized coach segments into a Space Train. Union Fleet was no exception, utilizing such customized coaches to transfer personnel and freight. While McElligott could have utilized GalCom Avatar technology to deliver his report, he always enjoyed a trip to Pluribus and it was considered custom to deliver such an important report in person, rather than via Avatar. A trip from or to Pluribus via Space Train wasn’t exactly long in terms of time anyway. There were quite a few who made that twenty-five-minute commute twice daily. To get from Sol Hub, parked at an apex position above Sol to Annapolis Tower, San Francisco, Earth was a matter of seconds via Transmatter Tunnel. Now he was back in his office overlooking San Fransisco Bay with the still beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, a perfect Ultronit replicate of the pre-Astro times original. He was not alone, General Warwick of the Union Army had just stepped in. McElligott always had a good relationship with the Union Army and this man in particular. Unlike the Spatial Navy, who was led by an immortal admiral, none of the other branches of Union armed forces had immortal leads. The Army’s PSI Corps was an exception as General Lichfangh occupied her position for over 1500 years, but the PSI Corps was technically not a branch but a department. In McElligott’s opinion, the bulky appearance of the General, his neatly trimmed silver hair and mustache was exactly how an Army General was supposed to look like. Warwick was not the General of the Army, this position was held by General Shannon Horner, a genuine Earth Terran, but Warwick was the Lead officer of the Army’s Advanced System Development Bureau. That James Warwick was born on New Albion, the oldest Earth colony chiefly settled by people of Great Britain, played golf and was of an old an important family were all endearing aspects in the Old Highlander’s eyes. The Army Officer exchanged a few non-essential words with McElligott. Talking about the recent golf event on Patrick’s Green planet, seeing the first Attikan golfer winning the GPG tournament (Galactic Professional Golf) and hinted that he was less than pleased that a non-human managed to become the GPG champion. He accepted a cup of tea, served by one of McElligott’s executive assistants and after he had taken a sip, the Army officer in his immaculate green uniform came to the point. “I am glad you were able to deflect the nosy inquiries. What do these civilian representatives know about military necessities? If it would up to me, I exempt Union military from being questioned by these civilians.” McElligott put his cup down. ”Unfortunately, I was not entirely successful in that regard. I delayed further inquiries for now. but it won’t be forgotten. If Stahl becomes aware of the details and Mothermachine asks, we better have answers and the situation under control.” Warwick had an angry tone in his voice. “That cretin is the reason, Army plays second fiddle to that obsolete Marine Corps. Are you not his superior, keep that ... that man away from the Assembly. Why not sent him on a particularly dangerous mission, he won’t refuse and perhaps even volunteer?” McElligott sighed. ”General, that is what I am trying to do for almost three millennia. He ends up amid the hottest engagements with or without orders. He has basically fought hand to hand with pretty much every enemy we ever faced, even though this is not what an Admiral is supposed to do. Whatever he might be, General... He is not a fool and everyone in the damn Union loves him” “He should not be an admiral but retired along with his marines for good. We need more time to perfect the Gorgons. Then we don’t need Orbital Assault Infantry or Marines. You know the next generation of Gorgons should be able to replace ship crews too. No one questioning orders, no costly recreation or food logistics, no criminals or place for the Worm.” When Warwick mentioned his project his eyes lit up in an almost fanatical way, but he too had to admit that Admiral Stahl had a reputation like no one else. The Old Highlander played with the now-empty teacup. ”That project has to disappear from the records, the mess it created could cost both of our necks if all its details become known. I have sent the Eternal Warrior, just as you suggest to Distant Shores Station. Intel reports were received that the Kermac managed to call the Y’All and genuine Y’All ships were sighted by patrols near Distant Shores.” “So the rumors are true, these four-armed terrors do originate from the Andromeda Galaxy.” “It might or might not be true, but it is as far as I could send him, separate him from his big tub with orders to organize the first line of defense. The incorrect reports were doctored up, intensified so to speak. His being as far as I can send him will give us time to clean up this mess.” “Sounds almost as if you are afraid of him.” “I am General, and so should you.” --””-- 2nd platoon did not combat drop but was ferried to the surface in APC Sprinters. No one was wearing Quasimodos, but the Security duty armor SENTINEL- Mk 119L. Dunn sat across Roy in the APC crew compartment. “Lieutenant, Sir. Would we not be better of wearing our D-suits. This Sentinel suit isn’t going to scare anyone, much less any Whackeys. Roy checked his SITKU and said. ”Mr.Dunn, these suits are part of our orders. We do have our monkey suits along, as well as ten Cerbs.” “Don’t tell me you like dropping almost naked, Sir.” “We don’t drop, this is a Union world and a Union Fleetbase, not an unknown alien world. The base was destroyed by rogue elements of our own fleet under the influence of the Whakeys. Officially these floating tick blobs have left and our mission is to support recovery and rescue operations. We are not the first ones deployed, Navy and other branches are already here.” Dunn rolled his eyes. ”I was afraid of that, Sir.” The platoon sergeant got up to check on the troops. Nothing less than perfect would do, especially now that the platoon had new faces. The permanent loss of marines stung in a very special way, but knowing they died fighting crazed Army hardware was an even tougher thing to accept, in Dunn’s eyes. Besides the KIA, there were the eight seriously injured marines. Modern Union medicine, SLIME, and Auto-Doc technology could fix and restore nearly everything and have a grunt ready for duty in no time, but some injuries required a longer recovery. In those cases, the Corps usually offered a medical discharge. Schiller, a likable corporal; with a seemingly bottomless stomach, a peculiar way of speaking and approaching pretty much everything, just like everyone that ever came from Sonora, planet; must have been Union Side by now and about to join 1st Civ. Div. He was certain, that all eight of the Marines still on the Binnacle List would not return to the Platoon, even if they would choose to stay in the Corps the chance for them to be assigned back to 2nd platoon was next to nil. --””-- The APCs of the Stryker, including the Jar-Bus of 2nd platoon, landed on Alpha field of Sigmar Base. Roy, just like everyone shouldered his Heavy Universal Modular Pack, containing pretty much everything issued to him, including ten kilos of personal gear, Marines called the sizeable back carried container HUMP. It was in addition to his SUMCAL, the Standard Union Marine Combat Arms Load, all in all, 220 kilos of personal gear. Not a terribly heavy load to a Greenie, especially one using a Grav Adjuster dialed up to six, for most of his life, but it was still a bulky load. Roy knew officers of the other branches did not carry their own HUMP, but Marines regardless of rank did. Admiral Stahl carried his own and not even the Commandant of the Union Marines himself would dream to have it carried for him. Roy’s smile, as he was thinking about Stahl did not reach his lips and only translated to his eyes. Yes, the Marines had a Commandant. Right now it was a Pertharian but no one, General Hardshell included, ever questioned that the Eternal Warrior has and always was the First Marine. Whatever Stahl said or did became unwritten but unbendable law to every grunt. Roy had learned how hard, Stahl tried to discourage this religious-like devotion and cultish hero-worship of every single marine. Intellectually Roy understood and wanted to be objective, but he too was as devoted as they all were. He was the first stomping down the landing ramp and stopped. Here on the ground, the devastation of Sigmar Base became a harsh reality. The huge landing field was riddled with deep rubble rimmed craters, big enough to hide a super cruiser. Behind him, Sergeant Dunn herded the platoon on deck and barked orders to arrange the troops into perfect Cover and Alignment. Roy had only general orders, but nothing detailed. The Base port facilities were nothing but burned out shells and twisted metal. GalNet listed Sigmar, planet, as GWC 2C. Meaning it was a garden world with an overall arid character. Sigmar was less diverse than a similar world a tad more distant to its sun and with a steeper orbital declination. Sigmar Base had been established only about twenty years ago, technically still a new base with a considerable civilian population. According to the data, Roy had pulled of GalNet, main base facilities had been established on the largest continent and on the northern hemisphere. There was the unmistakable smell of death and recent fire. Fire that did not consume wood, grass or anything like that, but flames that gnawed on plastic and other artificial materials. A tall Union Fleet officer with Commodore rank insignia seemed to wait for the Marines to arrive. Roy approached and saluted. ”Lt. Masters, 2nd Platoon, Company B, 1st Battalion, 14th Marines reporting for rescue and recovery duty, Sir.” The tall human appeared older than Roy, but could not guess the man’s age. About as much as he could guess the planet of origin. He was of Human stock and Roy guessed of Terran origin. The officer returned the salute and said. ”At ease Lieutenant Masters, I am Commodore Nag. Fleet Command has put me in command of Sigmar operations.” The officer made a sweeping gesture. “Not much has been left standing as you can see. Most of the recovery work is still going on. While the bulk of 40th fleet was deployed, base personnel was present at the time of the attack. We recovered 27,000 casualties so far, but over 8,000 are still missing.” Roy could not stop himself from swallowing hard. 35,000 dead was by far the biggest loss suffered in one attack. Yet his battle-trained eyes told him that it could have been even worse. ”The Battleships did not use the large translocators?” The Navy officer followed Roy’s gaze. ”Thankfully only a few, other elements, especially Wolfcraft fighters engaged the two rogue elements and forced them to leave the system. However, even the few bombs the Huran and the Walker were able to transmit caused most of the deaths and destruction. We can be thankful, neither ship had P Bombs.” Roy agreed, there would be nothing left if they had. The Commodore said. ”Sigmar is also a Union colony, and there are several towns across this globe. Menard’s Place is the largest city and suffered some losses and damages, but the brunt of the destruction was directed against Fleet installations.” “Our briefing was as usual rather spare on details, Sir. I assume you are our liaison office, Sir?” “Indeed, I am. Take your marines over to that burnt-out shell of the former supply warehouse to set up a temporary shelter. Then you and the other officers meet me at Command and Control for details.” --””-- PFC Saresii Lanar “Lace” Noryl, one of the very few Saresii enlisted to the United Stars Marines, dropped his HUMP. ”What a dump.” Lance Corporal Rokers also complained about the long Spacebag Drag across the cratered landing field and like PFC Noryl looked around. The place was a Durocrete floor, with three fire-blackened metal walls and a flat roof. The fourth wall was more or less just rubble. Whatever had been stored here had been consumed by a hot fire. None of the industrial shelves remained standing. Some machines had pushed the twisted rubble to the far end of the building and despite the missing wall, the smell of fire lingered heavy in the air. One of the platoon’s Pertharians, Corporal Kokovhr, the designated SAW man of squad two growled in an angry tone. ”This was a Union fleet base! There might be remains of Union citizens wearing Union uniform right beneath that rubble. We are walking and breathing, they are not. Show some respect.” Now the giant Lortor stomped up and loudly said. ”zee-ROW!” Every man of the 2nd platoon turned to pay attention. Eugbenzi waited a short moment to make sure everyone was paying attention. ”The Lieutenant and the Gunny went for that briefing to find out details of what we are here to do. So I am in charge, like it or not.” There was no one openly or even secretly objecting to that, the huge Lortor was well respected. Eugbenzi gestured to two Pertharians right upfront. “Rakhir and Kokovhr, take sidearms and secure the entrance. Gladius you climb in that roof and find a good sniper post. The rest is putting up canvas and get this place squared away.” The Saresii PFC asked.”Guards and sniper?” “Lieutenant’s orders. you heard him there might be Whakeys down here for one and then this is how things are done. Now move, I want this place shipshape when they come back.” --””-- Second Platoon had arrived at Sigmar Base, a week ago. The temporary shelter inside the damaged warehouse looked as orderly and squared away. The platoon was unusually quiet, after duty hours. The apparently simple task of digging through rubble and wreckage had become a constant recovery operation. The hundreds of burned and mangled remains brought home yet another face of war to the battle-hardened warriors. Even the always cynical Corporal Sanders did not complain about anything. Things changed at the beginning of the second week because Navy Engineers arrived and recovery changed to regular base security duty. Everyone remembered the words of Roy before they came here, yet no one mentioned Whakeys at all. Commodore Nag visited them in their makeshift barracks midweek and spoke to Roy. Then the word came down and security detail was canceled. Everyone suspected to board APCs and return to the Stryker, but that is when an APC in Army configuration landed just outside the warehouse and ten individuals in Army uniforms debarked. A Thauran Colonel, a Pan Saran captain, four Lieutenants and four specialists. The Thauran marched straight to PFC Kokovhr. ”Marine summon your platoon leader, we are here.” Category:Edited by Renaud Category:Fragments - Roy Masters Category:Stories